


Slow

by sanssssastark



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, Luke cries during sex because obviously, Unbeta'd: we die by street dogs, Very Very Very Soft Sex, like very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanssssastark/pseuds/sanssssastark
Summary: That’s why they decided to go slow because everything they thought they knew about their relationship got upended by the blood flowing through his veins and the breath in his lungs and the sweat that beads at his temples under the hot lights of the stage.Before, it was impossible, this incredible connection they’d forged together before, but now when everything was possible, it could so easily become too much too fast.
Relationships: Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 28
Kudos: 126





	Slow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearlcaddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlcaddy/gifts), [MamiRugbee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamiRugbee/gifts), [daniwithoutane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniwithoutane/gifts), [xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx/gifts).



> For my Angry Flower Squad, the only people I cross into the canon verse for. I'm checking another one of our prompts off the list because as we've discussed Luke crying during sex, especially the first time, is absolutely 100% canon. 
> 
> If you're inclined, listen to Sabrina Claudio's Belong to You while reading to set the right mood! ;-)

Go slow. Take your time. Make sure it’s right.

That was what everyone said. 

Everyone told them that was what they should do, but they’d come to that conclusion all on their own. It seemed like the only thing that everyone could agree on because there’s no quick start guide to reanimation. No one is even sure if that’s the right word. Julie doesn’t like it. It makes her think of monsters and that’s the last thing her boys are. Resurrection feels almost sacrilegious. Regeneration, too science fiction. Though, considering what their lives have been like for the last two years, maybe that one’s not too far off.

Whatever they call it, it’s a miracle, something Julie never imagined she could have. She’d resigned herself to it, to a life without so many things she should want, things everyone said she’d regret. Julie knew better then, even before the universe righted itself and granted a wish she never even thought to ask it for.

And that’s why they decided to go slow because everything they thought they knew about their relationship got upended by the blood flowing through his veins and the breath in his lungs and the sweat that beads at his temples under the hot lights of the stage. 

Before, it was impossible, this incredible connection they’d forged together _before_ , but now when everything was possible, it could so easily become too much too fast. 

Is it too fast after nearly two years? 

Is wanting to be with someone you’ve loved almost from the moment they dropped into your life rushing things? 

Would it really be so bad? 

It’s been a week. 

A week of life.

A week of warm skin instead of cool.

Julie marvels at it, lying here in his arms, tucked against his chest, his body heat easily soaking through his t-shirt, Sabrina Claudio’s sultry tones playing softly on vinyl from the turntable on her dresser. Her bedroom is as dark as the street outside except for the golden glow from the lamp in the corner and the twinkle lights around her windows. 

They’re at least allowed this right? Hidden away behind her bedroom door, shutting out the rest of the world, the prying eyes and the curious glances, even from the people they love the most. The house is quiet, everyone else asleep behind closed doors, dreaming of what this new life holds for all of them.

Because so much of this new reality is easy. Laughingly easy. Mostly paperwork, really. The boys were alive way longer than they were dead. Picking up at eighteen, almost exactly where they left off, time travel aside, is relatively simple. A few keystroke and a couple of signatures paired with some of the money Trevor Wilson owes them and they exist again. 

Lives. A burgeoning music career. A family of choice, if not blood.

It’s simple.

But this? 

Julie slides a finger down the length of Luke’s forearm and sighs at the goosebumps that appear in its wake. She traces the line of muscle there, before running her thumb over the pulse point at his wrist. 

This could be easy...maybe...if they let it be.

Luke pulls in a deep breath, chest expanding against her back while she tangles their fingers together, palm to palm, resting them against the curve of her thigh.

“Julie,” he whispers against her temple, pressing a soft kiss there and she shivers at the warm breath ghosting over her skin. 

The way he says her name hasn’t changed. Husky and deep with awe and reverence, like a prayer. The way it makes her feel hasn’t changed either. Warm and glowing and powerful, like she could entwine their souls with her touch or a kiss or...

Maybe resurrection _is_ the right word after all.

His lips trail down over the rise of her cheekbone and the edge of her jaw as her head falls back against his shoulder and when his hand rises up to pull her hair back away from the line of her neck, she turns her head and catches his mouth with hers.

He’s so warm, all the time now, but his mouth is hot and his tongue, running against her bottom lip sets off a wave of absolute fire over her body. His free hand slides against her hip, callused thumb drawing gentle circles against the skin just above the waist of the pajama shorts she’d slid on before he knocked softly on her door, so softly she’d barely heard.

Because slow doesn’t mean that they don’t need each other any less than they did before.

“You’re so warm,” he rasps against her skin, echoing her thoughts, “and soft and..” he trails off and groans against her neck when she presses her hips back into his. 

He told her once that before his senses were duller, even after she was able to feel him, it felt like he was touching her with fingers numb from the cold. She was real under his hands then, but now she’s _alive_ to him, the way he is for her. 

This is why they should go slow.

It’s too much.

Honestly, it’s too much. 

It’s too slow.

So she makes a decision.

Julie turns in his arms, pressing full length against him while she surges up into the kiss, pulling her hand free of his and burying it in his hair. And this? This is familiar, the way their bodies shift together. They’ve been here before, in the studio after a late night writing session, after a show high on the energy of the crowd and their own performance, but there’s a freedom in it now that wasn’t there before, and that freedom should be terrifying, but not with Luke...nothing with Luke has ever felt _anything_ except right. Even when they occupied different planes of existence. 

She wants him. She wants him so much, with every part of her soul and every beat of her heart and every inch of her skin.

And by the way he wraps his arms around her, holding her against his chest, rolling them over, pressing her down into the blanket, she knows he wants her too.

Bracing himself up on one arm, the other at her back, keeping her close, he gazes down at her. For a moment and then another they breathe together and she can see the bright sea glass of his eyes disappear into a stormy gray lining deep the deep black of his pupils. His leans his forehead down against hers and even that innocent contact sends another wave of heat over her skin.

“I love you,” he says against her lips, not waiting for her to respond, taking her bottom lip between his before deepening the kiss the same moment she does, their mouths open and desperate. 

They’ve said those words before, sometimes with casual carelessness, but more and more with the intensity they’ve always felt behind it that they finally can give voice to. She’s always known it. He has too, but sometimes it’s just important to say it out loud. It’s always important to say it out loud.

She reaches for the worn hem of his shirt, the one he was wearing when they first met, the Rush logo faded, the holes he cut out frayed at the edges, but soft against her fingers. He rises with her as she tugs it up, revealing the smooth planes of his chest. He takes over for her at his shoulders, rising up to his knees above her and pulling it over his head and tossing it behind him. 

Her finger trips trail down his chest, fascinated as the muscles in his stomach twitch at her touch. Her journey stops at the edge of his sweatpants and as her fingers fiddle with the tie just below his belly button, she looks up at him biting her lip lower, a question in her eyes.

Luke’s brown furrows in confusion, but his jaw clenches. He knows what she’s asking and he’s there with her, his expressions are as familiar to her as her own. His answering question is easy to read there. _Why?_

“I love you,” she answers, simply. ”I _want_ you.”

Exhaling harshly, he closes his eyes and she feels a shudder run through him along with a soft thrust of his hips that he clearly can’t control, which she answers with one of her own. 

“Are you...we said we would...Julie…” He opens his eyes on her name, like no matter how hard he fights it, he needs to look at her. She’s always loved the way he looks at her.

“Do you want me?” she asks, holding his gaze with hers. 

“Do I want you?” He repeats the question slowly. “I wake up every morning trying to hold on to the dreams I have of us every night and spend every second until I fall asleep again absolutely fucking desperate to be with you. Do I want you? Understatement of the damn century. Sometimes it feels like wanting you is all I do.”

Julie nods because she knows that feeling and she tries to commit his words to memory because it’s going to make a killer song one day. Maybe tomorrow. Tonight is for this, for them. “Me too.”

“I…” he stutters, swallowing roughly, his eyes traveling across her face, like he’s trying to memorize her. She used to catch him looking at her like this all the time, back when they thought they were doomed to lose each other.

“I’m here,” she whispers, her voice suddenly thick against the sheer size of the emotions coursing through her. “We’re here. Together.”

He blinks and a tear escapes, finding purchase for a moment against his eyelashes before slipping over his cheekbone and as soon as she reaches up to brush it away, another falls. 

Luke exhales a shaky breath and nods. “Forever.” 

Her own breath catches and her vision blurs with tears. “We’re a mess,” she whispers through a laugh.

“We are." He dips his head to kiss away the tear at the corner of her eye. “You’re a fucking gorgeous mess though,” he whispers against her skin.

“Luke,” she gasps as he moves his mouth over hers and she lifts a hand to his cheek to hold him there.

“We said slow,” he murmurs when they pull away to breathe.

“So let’s go slow,” she agrees, sliding her legs up, her knees settling against him as his hands fall to her thighs while she circles her hips. “Very, very slow.” 

“Fuck,” he curses, when she leans against him, rolling them over and his eyes glaze over as he watches her lift her top up and off, joining his on the floor at the foot of her bed. 

He reaches for her, palming her breasts, sitting up, their hips aligning. Her body knows what to do even when his hands on her skin and his lips trailing a line of hot, open mouthed kisses from the valley between her breasts up the column of her neck, make conscious thought impossible. 

Slow is the right way because slow makes it easy and actually sexy for her to slide down his body, trailing kisses over his chest while her hands undo the knot at the waist of his sweatpants and then drag them down his legs before shimmying out of her sleep shorts. And then, _slowly_ , she can crawl back up the length of his body, sliding skin against skin so by the time her mouth reaches his, his hands are clutching her hips and she’s on her back again.

Slow just means deliberate and unrushed and gentle and undemanding. And every touch, every kiss, every shaking breath is just that, until it’s not. 

Because it all leads to hearts racing and their breath coming hard and fast and a light sheen of sweat coating their skin while their hands and their mouths work together and when she looks down, her back against her headboard, to see his head buried between her thighs and his eyes rise to meet hers, her toes curl against her soft sheets and her entire body electrifies and those tears are back as she collapses down to her pillows. Then he’s there, again, mouth against hers and she feels his tears joining hers on her cheeks when carefully slides inside of her, hitting the sweetest spot that she never even knew existed.

Her eyes open as she gasps and he’s already looking at her and maybe he was the one that gasped.

“I love you,” she says, her words urging him the way her body is, to move with her, slowly, just like they promised. 

And they give over to sensation and instinct and it’s not long before that intensity that’s burned between them for so long is too much and they fall together bodies shaking, sweat soaked hair and long, drawn out almost whispered murmurs are the only sounds in the room aside from the soft creak of her bed.

Then finally, it’s just them, breathing together, his head on her shoulder, lips skimming over the cut of her collarbone, while she trails the pads of her fingers along his spine, holding each other close until their bodies stop gasping for air and the pounding of their blood slows in their veins, but their souls? Those are still intertwined, the same way his body curls around hers, an arm pillowing her head, the other hand at her hip.

As the world fades around her, the only thing she can think is that going slow, savoring every moment, every touch, every whispered word of adoration, was absolutely the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments bring me life, alive writers write more! Leave comments get more fic!


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